


legacy (not so lucky)

by the_littlest_goblin



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Character Study, Family Dynamics, Gen, Minor Violence, Next Generation, Post-Campaign 1 (Critical Role)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-22 15:46:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22485367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_littlest_goblin/pseuds/the_littlest_goblin
Summary: Every family has a rebel.
Relationships: Percival "Percy" Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III/Vex'ahlia
Comments: 9
Kudos: 131





	legacy (not so lucky)

Footsteps echoed through the tight, stone stairwell, growing steadily louder as they approached.

“Are you ok?” 

Johanna sighed. Of course he had found her. He always found her.

She refused to turn and look at him, unwilling to let even her twin brother see the tears in her eyes. Instead she continued to stare straight ahead, out over the grand expanse of Whitestone. The Clocktower stood in the center of town, so every direction had a view of the city. Today’s hiding spot, one of many hollowed-out pathways designed for maintenance access, faced south towards the sprawling Parchwood. Based on the placement, Johanna guessed she was looking out from the space between a dragon’s outstretched wings. In the winter, this view would be blocked; that late in the year the clockwork Conclave would be defeated, their moving parts lying dead and dormant while the Vox Machina automatons faced off against a Vecna formed of gears and filagree. Percy had designed the whole show to end and begin again on the anniversary of Uncle Vax’s death.

How wonderfully morbid of him.

Johanna heard her brother’s footsteps approaching, felt the pressure against her left side as he squeezed to sit next to her in the window, legs dangling over the edge the way their parents always warned them against doing. Still, she didn’t look at him. If she sniffled, it was only because of the autumn chill settling into the air.

“You know,” Freddie spoke after several moments’ silence. “You don’t have to leave.”

Johanna huffed. Of course, he hadn’t come after her to offer support. He came because he wanted to continue the same argument she’d just stormed out of. 

If she leaned her head out a bit, she could see the house. ‘Mom’s house,’ Dad liked to joke that it was all hers, and technically not a brick belonged to him.

“I am leaving,” she said, voice hoarse but firm.

“Why, though?” Freddie pleaded. 

“I already told you all why. If you’re going to yell at me too, stuff it. I don’t want to hear it.”

“I’m not going to yell at you,” said Freddie. “I just don’t get it.”

“What’s there to get?” Johanna huffed. “People leave their hometowns all the time. What’s weird is wanting to stay in the same place your whole life. I’m not the weird one!”

A chill breeze blew by them, making the many metal sheets and tubes affixed to the tower creak faintly. Johanna used the noise to cover a deep, shaky exhale. It was a hard fight to keep her voice steady against the sobs threatening to burst from her chest.

“Do you… not like it here?” Freddie asked tentatively, like he couldn’t imagine how anyone wouldn’t. And honestly, neither could Johanna. 

“Of course I do. It’s home.” She was suddenly incredibly conscious of the feel of the stone wall supporting her— cold and rough, but so very familiar. She passed a finger over the white surface, tracing random swirls and shapes into the stone that had built this city, that was the foundation of her heritage. 

_White stone: cold and pale,_ old people sometimes joked. She wasn’t sure if it was her dad or Aunt Cass or some ancestor from generations ago who had started it. _Just like the de Rolo’s._

Johanna de Rolo didn’t feel cold. Despite the chill on the outside, inside she felt very, very _hot_. Burning. Boiling. Hot steam stirred underneath her skin; someone had to let it out, or the pressure was going to burst.

“So why do you want to leave your home? Why would anyone want to leave home?” Freddie asked the open air, directing the question outward like some bird flying past might hear his plea and come land on his arm to give him the answer. Knowing her brother, it wasn’t impossible. 

“It’s not just about leaving. And it’s not like I’ll never come back,” said Johanna, repeating the same words she’d used less than an hour ago, trying to mollify her mother. But instead of being reassured, tears had welled up in Lady Vex’ahlia’s eyes as she’d whispered, _“You don’t know that.”_

Percy and Vex weren’t yellers, generally. There were better ways of resolving problems, they said. Johanna had thought she knew what her parents’ anger looked like: a disapproving glare, a stern finger wag, no weapons for a week. But she had never seen her mother’s eyes grow quite so cold and dead as dinner tonight, when Jo told them she was going to leave. She had never heard her father raise his voice the way he had as they argued over the adventuring life, and exactly what her parents could or could not forbid her to do.

She’d thought, maybe, in the back of her mind, that they might be proud. They might say something about her following in their footsteps, and she’d argue that, no, actually she was doing her own thing, nothing like them, and maybe they’d all have a bit of a row like they sometimes did over dinner. A ‘debate.’ Johanna took great pleasure in antagonizing her parents in just the right way to get the composed, levelheaded, oh-so-very-dignified Lord and Lady de Rolo all flustered and crabby. She would poke at them in the way only she knew how, get them riled up, but not properly _angry_. Those arguments always ended with some form of grumbled truce, and by the time dessert was served, everyone was happy again.

Tonight was not that kind of fight. Tonight was yelling, and tears, and Vesper dragging a distressed Madeleine up to bed early. Freddie and Julius had both stayed frozen in their seats, silently watching their middle sister gradually lose her shit until she had to retreat from the house entirely.

Johanna sighed, squeezing her eyes shut against the memory of her mother’s look of betrayal.

“Don’t you ever want to do more, Freckle?” she asked. She felt Freddie shift next to her, no doubt shaking off the detested nickname. That made Johanna smile, albeit weakly. It was hardly the worst nickname to have. He should be grateful she had stopped calling him ‘Pinecone.’ 

She continued, “Literally every person we’ve ever met has done something incredible. Every adult, at least.”

“Professor Horace has definitely never done anything incredible in his life,” Freddie replied, referring to their aged history tutor, whom Vesper had years before dubbed ‘the most boring man alive.’

“Exactly! I can’t keep sitting through lessons taught by people who haven’t done anything, hearing the stories of all the great heroes who have. Watching the ‘saviors of Tal’dorei’ gather in our living room every year for Winter’s Crest. I feel like… like I have to do something to earn my place at that table.” Finally, she chanced a glance at her brother. His face was the mirror image of hers: pale skin, dark hair, high cheekbones, straight noses. The only obvious difference between them was the coating of freckles along Freddie’s nose and cheeks. He looked solemn, but he always looked like that. “Don’t you ever feel that way?” she continued. “Inadequate? Like you haven’t earned your name?”

“Are you kidding me, Joey?” Freddie huffed a sardonic laugh. “Of course I do! I am Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo _IV_.” 

It was hard to tell if Freddie was doing a spot-on impression of Dad, or if that was just what he sounded like and she hadn’t noticed the uncanny similarity until now. 

“Of course I feel pressure, Jo. We all do. How could we not, our entire lives are spent in the shadow of our parents’ adventures. Literally!” He waved around at the Clocktower, which was indeed casting a shadow over Whitestone, growing longer as the sun slipped lower down on the horizon.

Johanna had a sudden thought at his words, a thought which filled her with an intense excitement even as she tried to temper her expectations. Averting her gaze from her brother once again, she murmured, “Would you… do you want to come with me?” 

Even without looking, she could feel his gaze on her. She held her breath, waiting.

“Joey…” he said, and she could tell just from that what his answer was. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

_It’s fine, no problem._ That was what she intended to say. What came out instead was a harsh, desperate, “Why not?”

“I don’t want to,” he said, and she pretended that it didn’t sting to hear. “You say you have to leave so you can prove yourself, but I want to do that _here_.” 

A rebuke was on the tip of Johanna’s tongue, but she held it back. She knew her brother well enough to know when he was keeping a secret. She narrowed her eyes at him.

“What? What is it?” 

Freddie sighed, but Johanna could see that he was holding back a smile. 

“Mom’s letting me come on the next Hunt.” A sliver of the grin broke through even as he tried to conceal it. “She told me this morning.”

Johanna didn’t know whether to hug her brother or punch him. Given that either option came with the risk of knocking one or both of them off of the tower, she simply said, “Congratulations.” There was a hollowness to her voice. They both heard it.

“Thanks,” he said dully.

“Come on, Freckle,” said Johanna, trying and failing to muster some enthusiasm and bury the acid burn of jealousy bubbling in her chest. “This is a big deal! You’ve wanted to go on a Hunt since before you could even carry a bow. Get excited!”

“I know,” he said. “I am excited.” He flashed a stiff smile, performing at her insistence while also hiding his genuine happiness to save her pride.

Suddenly, Johanna was filled with a deep, broiling anger. How dare he pity her! How dare he come chasing after her from that disastrous dinner, a secret stashed away that he clearly knew was just the thing to kick her while she was down.

_I’m so sorry Jo, that was rough. Getting shot down and yelled at by the people whose respect you want more than anything must really hurt. I definitely know how you feel. Oh, by the way, today I achieved my greatest dream, and also by extension gained our mother’s symbolic trust and approval, all at the age of 17. Which also happens to be your age, and what do you have to show for it, again?_

It was all well and good for him. He and Vesper both: the poster children, respectively Vex and Percy’s mini-me’s. They had talent and opportunity perfectly matched, and had known their paths seemingly from birth. Julius was studious and dedicated, he would surely succeed at any venture he set his mind to. And everyone loved Maddie, regardless.

And Jo was just… leftover. All she was good at was stabbing things and skipping out on lessons, so what else could she do with her skills other than go out into the world and find some monsters to fight? 

Vex had called her ungrateful. _Throwing yourself at danger for the fun of it,_ when she and Percy had worked so hard to give them all safe and happy lives.

_You don’t know what it’s like out there,_ Percy had followed, gripping mithril cutlery with scarred, white knuckles. _People don’t go down that road unless they have no other choice._

“Jo? Are you ok?” Freddie asked, concerned.

Rather than answer, Jo pushed herself back from the ledge with as much force as she could manage in the small space. She trusted Freddie’s balance enough to know he wouldn’t fall, and she would never want him to, but a small part of her still took a sick sort of pleasure at seeing him rock back with the force of her movement. In the split second it took for him to steady himself, she was already running back down the spiraling tower stairs, expertly dodging through large, slowly shifting gears as she went.

The Clocktower was the whole family’s go-to hiding spot, but Johanna knew a place no one would dare to bother her. Sacred spaces were for sacred occasions; to tread there any other time was disrespectful, bordering on blasphemous, to those that held them so. 

Johanna was feeling extremely sacrilegious at the moment.

* * *

The bench was to the de Rolo family what a tombstone was to most people who had lost someone. With no proper grave to visit, the group of them made a pilgrimage every year on the anniversary to sit in contemplation and hear stories about the deceased. Vex and Percy, who had actually known Uncle Vax, visited more often, on days which held no significance to their children but were clearly important for some reason. Vex always went alone on her birthday.

For their children, the spot held a sort of grave mysticism that made it both alluring and repulsive. To sit on it was to admit and submit to a depth of feeling which was scary for a child and downright terrifying for a teenager.

Johanna felt no such reverence as she half-ran through the woods, following the path of tamped-down grass and earth formed from nearly twenty years of grief. 

She didn’t feel respectful. She wasn’t here to mourn. Those two things combined held a thrill stronger than any of her previous rebellions. Pranking her tutors and cutting her hair were nothing compared to this. 

With the bench in sight, she slowed to a jog, panting but full of energy. She had half a mind to kick it. She needed to _hit_ something. And with Aunt Pike’s amateur craftsmanship, if she hit the right spot enough times with enough force, she might bring the whole thing tumbling down…

She stopped with her foot hovering above the ground. Even with the pressure building under every nerve, threatening to split her open, part of her mind still knew well enough to pull back on the reins, hard. 

_Enough,_ it said to her. _You are not that cruel. You are not that detached._ It was right.

Jo lowered her foot. Her breath was coming harder and ragged now, and she realized that tears were pouring again over the tracks that had only just dried.

As soon as she became aware of them, the tears doubled. The sobs which she thought she had successfully fought off earlier now returned with a vengeance, wracking through her body like tidal waves. She shivered; the sun was halfway hidden now and the temperature was quickly dropping with it.

Johanna dropped helplessly onto the bench, wrapping her arms around herself, meager placeholders for warmth and comfort. She hadn’t cried like this since she was a little girl, running to her mother for solace. 

As her violent sobs slowly evened out into a steady stream of tears, a flapping sound made her lift her hanging head. Blinking the blurriness out of her puffy eyes, she saw a huge, sleek raven sitting on the other side of the bench. It hopped closer, cocking its head curiously at her.

“Oh, fuck off,” she said venomously. They all knew about the ravens. Whitestone was full of them. “I’m not here for you.”

Instead of flying away or cawing in indignation, the raven took another hop and fluttered up to perch on her thigh. 

This was not as remarkable an experience for a de Rolo as it might be for another person. They’d all been visited by the ravens, experienced their inherent good will. As kids, whole masses of them would flap about and land on their heads, and they would all laugh and dance while Freddie pompously informed them that a group of ravens was called an ‘unkindness,’ and Maddie would unfailingly tell the birds not to listen to him, and that she thought they were very kind.

Thinking about her siblings just made rage bubble up again in Jo’s chest. She swatted a haphazard backhand at the raven, hoping that would scare it off for good. Instead, it met her slap with a sharp nip of its beak.

“Ow!” Jo screeched, whipping her hand back and inspecting the wound. A small, circular puncture oozed blood just under the bottom knuckle of her pinkie. It was minor, the kind of injury she wouldn’t even bother asking Vex to heal under normal circumstances. She pressed her other hand against it, and within a few seconds the bleeding was already slowing down.

Judging by the razor-sharp glint of that beak, the raven had been pulling its punches.

“Bastard,” she snarled at it, but her voice lacked rancor. The raven blinked at her, unimpressed. 

“What do you want from me?” she pleaded with it.

The raven answered by extending its wings and flapping up to land on her shoulder. Johanna froze, struggling to keep it in her view without poking an eye out on its beak. It leaned into her, making itself comfortable in the curve of her neck, snuggling into her hair like a blanket. Hesitantly, she reached her un-stabbed hand up and stroked a finger down its back. Feathers ruffled under her touch. Johanna didn’t have her mother or twin’s way with animals, but she thought it seemed pleased.

She realized she was no longer crying. Now she took stock, the boiling anger that had consumed her every nerve a minute ago now felt like a low simmer, present but manageable.

“Thanks,” she grumbled to the raven. It made a weird sort of gurgling sound which Jo wasn’t certain how to interpret. She chose to believe it was saying _you’re welcome._

* * *

The sun had fully disappeared by the time Johanna slunk back home, navigating by moonlight and the new prototype street lamps Percy had installed along the main roads.

She made it through the garden gate and in the front door without a sound, crept up the stairs with cat-like grace, and slipped silently into her bedroom.

She really thought she’d done it this time, until a minute later she heard the tell-tale padding of footsteps, and a soft knock on the door.

“Come in,” Jo called through teeth gritted in frustration. Years of successfully sneaking past her siblings, her father, all manner of teachers, and the many guards of Whitestone, but she could never defeat her mother’s keen senses.

The door opened slowly, Vex’s head peeking around it.

“Hello, darling,” she said, soft and hesitant.

“What do you want?” Jo asked sullenly, not in the mood for pleasantries.

“We wanted to talk.” Vex opened the door further and stepped inside, revealing Percy hovering behind her. Agitated and distracted, Jo had misidentified the sound of two sets of footsteps as only one.

She really didn’t want to talk to either of her parents right then, let alone both at the same time.

“Can it wait?” she snapped. She knew she sounded like a brat, but couldn’t bring herself to care.

“I don’t think it can, actually,” Vex walked over to sit on the bed, Percy right behind her. Despite the late hour, they were both still dressed.

As soon as they approached, Jo stood up and went to stand by the window, arms crossed and staring resolutely up at the night sky, away from her parents. 

“We both said some things tonight that we regret,” Vex spoke as if her daughter weren’t steadfastly ignoring her. “And we wanted to apologize.”

“We may have been a bit harsh with you,” Percy added.

“You think?” Johanna couldn’t resist taking the opening for sarcasm.

“We’re sorry, darling,” Vex continued. “Your announcement hit a bit of a nerve with us, if you couldn’t tell.”

“We never wanted any of you kids to live the kind of lives we did,” said Percy. “I know it sounds glamorous and exciting—and parts of it can be. But mostly it’s sad and exhausting and dangerous.”

“I know that,” said Jo, unable to maintain her silent treatment. “I’m not a moron!”

“Of course you’re not,” said Percy. “You’re the smartest girl in the world.”

“Except for Vesper,” Jo grumbled.

Percy smiled softly. “There are different kinds of smart, dear.”

“Will you please come here, darling?” Vex implored to her daughter’s still-turned back.

Jo considered her options. She could obey her mother, which was never an appealing prospect. She could continue to stand here while they talked at her. She could open up the window and escape by climbing down the side of the house.

A dark shape flew past Johanna’s vision as she debated, a form more densely black than the night sky behind it. 

A raven fluttered and perched on the windowsill outside, considering her with its gleaming, black eyes. She couldn’t tell if it was the same bird from the bench, or a different one.

Sighing, shoulders slumping, Johanna trudged over to join her parents on the bed.

“Go ahead,” she grumbled.

Vex and Percy exchanged a knowing look. Jo rolled her eyes.

“Why do you want to be an adventurer, darling?” Vex asked.

Jo straightened up in surprise. She was expecting to hear another lecture, not to be asked a question. 

She opened her mouth to speak, but the words stuck in her throat. Despite laying out her reasons just a few hours ago for Freddie, she found herself uncertain and embarrassed of everything she’d said to him. Shame curled in her stomach when she imagined admitting her feelings of inadequacy to her parents.

“Every adventurer has a reason—a motivation to live the life they do,” Percy interrupted the stretching silence. “For example, my entire family was murdered by cultists and the all-consuming quest for revenge was the only thing that kept me going.”

Johanna’s eyes snapped up to her father. His expression was steely but his eyes were soft as they met her’s.

It wasn’t that anything he’d said was new information, but she’d never heard him talk about it so candidly and without preamble.

“And killing monsters was the best way for me and my brother to keep ourselves fed and off the streets after we ran away from our neglectful, piece of shit father,” Vex added in a similarly casual tone.

“Your Aunt Keyleth was on a rite-of-passage quest in order to become the leader of her people. Uncle Tary wanted to prove himself to _his_ piece of shit father so he could earn his inheritance.”

“Uncle Grog just likes to hit things,” Jo countered, picking up on their game. “Why can’t that be my motivation?”

Percy bit back a smile. “No offense to your Uncle Grog, but we rather hoped you kids would aim a little higher in terms of role models.”

“I think Uncle Grog is a great role model,” Jo snapped, partially out of defense for her favorite uncle and partially for herself. “He found something he loves to do and spent his whole life doing it. And I get your point,” she looked between her parents. “But I don’t know what you expect from me when literally _all_ my role models were adventurers. How can you raise us all on stories of ‘the great Vox Machina’ and expect us to be happy as boring, idle nobles?” Her voice grew louder and angrier as she picked up steam. She couldn’t control it and, honestly, she didn’t want to.

“I’m not like Vesper or Freddie. I don’t have a calling. I can’t just wait around in Whitestone trying to figure it out!”

“But what’s the hurry, darling? Why do you have to figure it out now?”

Johanna deflated. “Because,” she said, much more quietly. “You’re letting Freddie go on the next Hunt.”

Vex’s face fell. “It’s not a competition, darling,” she tried, but even she could heard the emptiness in her own words.

“Just admit it. You trust him, and you don’t trust me.”

“That’s not it at all!” Vex looked heartbroken. “Of course we trust you! But there’s a big difference between bringing Freddie with me and Trinket and the whole Grey Hunt, and letting you go off totally on your own and unprepared.”

“I am prepared!” Jo cried. “I’ve been training to fight since I was a kid. And I’m better than everyone else at it. I can beat Freddie at anything other than archery, and Julius won’t even spar with me anymore because he says it’s not fair.”

“We have you train with weapons so you can defend yourselves, Pelor forbid you ever need to,” Percy stepped in. “Sparring with your siblings isn’t at all the same as being ready for a real fight.”

“Well then how am I supposed to be ready, other than to go out and actually _do_ it?” Johanna argued.

Vex let out a sigh, deep and full of regret. “We just don’t want you to get hurt, darling. We know better than anyone how dangerous it can be.”

“I’d be _fine!”_ Jo insisted.

“You’re not invincible, Johanna,” Percy said with a gravitas that sent a shiver down Jo’s spine. “Neither are we. No one is.”

“I know that!”

“Do you know that we’ve died?” Vex spoke suddenly, throwing Jo’s attention back to her. “Both of us? Several times?”

“I—what?” Jo stuttered.

Percy shot his wife a look. “We were going to tell you when you and your brother were a little older,” he said. “We agreed that some parts of our past were better discussed at a certain age.”

“Yes, well, sometimes push comes to shove,” said Vex bitterly. She kept her gaze fixed on Johanna, eyes hard as steel behind brimming tears. “However ready you think you are, you’re not. However tough you think you are, there’s someone or something tougher, just waiting to rip you to shreds. I won’t have anymore deaths in my family. I won’t!”

Jo cowed slightly under her mother’s intensity. In her mind’s eye, she saw Uncle Vax’s bench, and the raven, and then other, fabricated images of her parents lying still and motionless, covered in blood. She squeezed her eyes shut, but the images remained. A nauseous feeling which she didn’t care to examine settled in her stomach.

A morbidly curious part of her wanted to ask for details—when and how, and why wasn’t that part in the Clocktower’s saga? But she couldn’t bring herself to ask.

Vex closed her eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. Percy wrapped an arm around his wife, rubbing comforting circles against her back. 

“I’m sorry, darling,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“Does Vesper know?” Johanna said in a near-whisper.

Vex and Percy both nodded. “We told her when she turned eighteen,” said Percy.

“I really do understand. I get why you want to leave. But I can’t stand the thought of you out there alone.” Tears continued welling up in Vex’s eyes, but none fell as she reached a hand over to cup her daughter’s cheek. “You’re still so young.”

An ocean of feelings churned in Johanna’s chest, a burning cocktail of guilt and sadness and anger and fear, and underneath it all that familiar, desperate, burning need to _move_.

Her parents had succeeded in humbling her, but not in quashing her wanderlust. 

“I have to go,” she said, unable to summon better words to describe her state of mind. “I just… I have to. Maybe not now,” she relented, “but soon. Eventually.”

“I have an idea,” said Percy. Both his wife and daughter looked at him with curious stares. His eyes were sparkling in the way that meant he had connected some thread, found the answer to whatever puzzle was in front of him. 

“Every year for Grog’s birthday, Pike and Scanlan take him on a little trip; they investigate some threat, whatever’s in the area. It’s usually pretty mild.

“We’ll double down on your training,” he nodded to Jo. “I think Kynan would be up to the task.” 

Jo’s eyes widened. Kynan was their Captain of the Riflemen, a job that put training a teenager far below his pay-grade. 

“If, in let’s say about a year’s time, you can beat Kynan in a duel, then you can join on Grog’s next birthday hunt. Give adventuring a trial of sorts.”

Vex turned to her husband. “Percy,” she hissed. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Not at all,” he admitted with a small grin. “But she’s _our_ daughter, Vex. You really think she’s going to let this go?”

Johanna held her breath for her mother’s verdict, not even bothering to complain that they were talking about her like she wasn’t there.

Vex looked between her husband and daughter, cogs clearly whirring vigorously in her mind.

“Alright,” she said finally. “ _If_ Jo completes her training, and _if_ Pike and Scanlan are ok with it.”

Johanna repressed the urge to jump up and pump her fists in the air. Instead, she asked tentatively, “And if I can’t beat Kynan?”

“Then you don’t go,” said Percy. “We’re not sending you out there to get yourself killed.”

“Fair enough,” Jo conceded. She had no intention of failing.

* * *

Johanna surveyed the yard warily. A small crowd had begun to gather around the training grounds, word having spread to various Pale Guards and Riflemen about the portentous duel. She saw Kynan approaching her from across the yard, dressed in his customary uniform. A slight man somewhere in his thirties, he had a sad face and a quiet demeanor, and Jo had gotten to know him quite well over the past year.

“How are you feeling?” he asked her.

“Great!” she said sharply. “Never better.”

“I can tell them to leave,” he said, motioning to the guards milling about. “This doesn’t have to be a spectator event.”

A part of Jo screamed for her to say yes. There was enough pressure as it was, without adding more of an audience. She felt their eyes on her keenly, and the fight hadn’t even started. They were barely paying attention yet.

Jo squared her shoulders and looked up at Kynan with her chin held high. “Why?” she said. “Don’t want your men to see you get your ass beat by an eighteen year old girl?”

Kynan smiled at her. “As you wish, my lady.” He patted her shoulder, the feeling muffled through her leather armor. “Remember: element of surprise.”

“I remember.”

“Also, stretch,” he said sternly, giving her a pointed look before retreating back to his side of the arena. Jo dutifully began stretching out her limbs, giving her sword and daggers a few test jabs.

The arrival of the Lord and Lady from their council meeting marked the start of the fight. One of the Pale Guard, apparently having appointed himself referee, counted down from three as Kynan and Johanna took their positions in the chalked circle, already demarcated for sparring, though no previous match had been as momentous as this.

They squared off for a few tense seconds before Johanna made the first move. She ran at Kynan, aiming for a weak spot in the side of his armor. He sidestepped her easily, and made to counterattack, but she rolled out of the way of his blade.

As soon as she was back on her feet, he was there again, stabbing into the same spot she had tried to hit. She tensed at the pain. During normal training, that kind of hit would be an immediate time-out and call for a healer, but Kynan had forced her to fight through plenty injuries in the past year.

“A dragon’s not going to give you a time-out,” he’d say, repeatedly, substituting whatever monster happened to be on his mind that day.

Jo clenched her jaw as the dagger withdrew from her side and took the opportunity to kick Kynan right in the stomach. He stumbled back, gasping; she’d knocked the wind out of him. 

Without taking a moment to celebrate, Jo ran back at him with her sword raised, landing a solid cut on his arm even as he dodged the full force of her attack. He responded with a slash down the length of her cheek.

No pulling punches. They’d agreed. Still, the shock of the hit stunned her for a moment. In training, no one ever went for the face.

Kynan used her hesitation to swipe at her side again. He missed, but succeeded in shocking her back into action. Rather than charge straight at him, she stepped around to attack from his weaker right side, stabbing straight through his leather armor into his chest, right beneath the collar bone. 

Kynan’s face screwed up in pain, and Jo retreated several feet back, letting him come after her. Now that they were in the swing of things, the nerves faded as adrenaline pumped through her body. There was no room to think about the people watching, and as her mind cleared, the memories of her training came back into focus.

_You’re small and quick, you can use that to your advantage._ Kynan’s voice played back in her mind. 

As he ran towards her, she sidestepped him. He blew past her, course corrected, tried to come at her from behind but she was already waiting for him. She blocked his attack with one arm and stabbed into his gut with the other. Stepped back. He stepped forward to meet her, and instead of dodging, she ducked and rolled underneath his perfect, wide stance. She was up behind him before he even knew what had happened. With a sudden stroke of inspiration, she adjusted her grip and hit him as hard as she could in the back of the head with the hilt of her sword. She had to stretch rather far up to reach, but the move was effective. Kynan dropped to his knees.

She thought he was unconscious. She thought she’d done it. 

Then a sweeping kick came and knocked her legs out from under her. She landed hard on her back, fighting the tunneling edges of her vision.

The next thing she was aware of was the familiar warmth of healing magic seeping into her skin, repairing broken tissue and replenishing spilled blood.

Her first thought was her mother, but as her tired eyes blinked open, they lit upon a freckled face, so very like her own.

“Freddie?” she said, astonished and still disoriented. “Did you just heal me?”

He nodded, then wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a sitting position with his fierce hug. She winced—his spell hadn’t undone all the damage of the fight—and he released her with a sheepish, “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she said dazedly. “When did you learn to do that?”

Freddie shrugged. “It just sort of…happened. I dunno.”

“That’s amazing,” Jo said in awe.

“ _You’re_ amazing!” he countered. “Since when did you learn to fight like that?”

Her answer was interrupted by a hand on her shoulder. Turning, she saw her father kneeling next to her on the well-kept grass of the sparring arena, smiling. He offered her a hand and she took it. He pulled her to her feet as he stood up, and there was Vex right behind him. Her mother pulled Jo into a hug, gentler than Freddie’s, and released another, stronger bout of healing magic, which seemed to fix the rest of her wounds fully.

“That was wonderful, darling,” Vex whispered as she pulled away. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Well done,” Percy beamed.

“But I—I lost.”

“Kynan is twice your size and has about three times the experience. We never expected you to take him down,” Percy said matter-of-factly. Johanna bristled, but was too tired to be properly angry, especially since her dad had a point.

“But you held your own, darling. I’m so impressed with you,” said Vex, and Johanna fought not to show her glee.

“It’s been a while since someone’s hit me with that move.” Kynan’s voice joined them. He was rolling his shoulders, apparently having been seen to by another healer. “Great job, Johanna.”

“Sorry,” she said, not feeling very sorry at all. She wasn’t sure exactly which move he was referring to. He exchanged amused looks with Percy and Vex, and Johanna shrugged it off, too sore and tired to bother dwelling on the enigmas of adult behavior.

As she made her way back through Whitestone toward home, surrounded on all sides by her chattering family, her siblings dissecting every moment of the fight, Johanna cast her eyes upward to the Clocktower. At this time of day, its shadow was falling on the other side of town.

She watched the automaton figure of Aunt Pike bend over the fallen form of her dad, the copper-green body of Raishan lying prone behind them, and she suddenly realized that in the Clocktower’s puppet show of Vox Machina’s adventures, what she had always assumed to be a scene of healing could just have easily been a resurrection. 

Percy hadn’t sanitized their deaths from the story, after all. She just hadn’t been paying attention. The thought was oddly comforting.

* * *

“You ready?” Aunt Pike smiled at her, shouldering her pack full of provisions and spell components, her armor gleaming in the early morning sun.

Johanna nodded, gripping tight to the straps of her own bag. Her parents had supplied her with more rations than she could possibly eat, and a couple hundred gold ‘in case of an emergency.’ She’d secretly removed about half the weight of her bag before stepping into the teleportation circle to Westruun, and it still felt heavy on her back, making her even more aware of all the other weight she was carrying with her armor and weapons.

“Onward!” Uncle Scanlan cried, and began playing a jaunty tune on his lute as the group of them set off into the forest. These woods were much less dense than the Parchwood; ancient old oaks, wider around than Johanna could wrap her arms, stood at large intervals, creating a winding path of undergrowth that the four of them could walk through side by side, even Uncle Grog. A chorus of songbirds joined in with the lute, echoing their different pitches across the forest. Grog hummed tunelessly along.

“Shouldn’t we be a little…quieter?” Johanna whispered to Pike. Her aunt laughed.

“We’ve got a bit of a hike before we get to where the chimera was sighted. Might as well let them get it all out now.” She cocked her head toward Grog and Scanlan, who were now skipping along in tandem in a sort of jerky, awkward dance. That kind of display should by all rights have embarrassed Johanna thoroughly, but giddiness and nerves and excitement were taking up all the room in her chest. So she just smiled back at Pike and continued along their way, occasionally joining the humming even as she kept an eager hand on her sword, ready and waiting. 

**Author's Note:**

> A while ago I made a [post](https://the-littlest-goblin.tumblr.com/post/188371928230/mithrilwren-thats-all-the-excuse-i-need-de-rolo) on tumblr about my de Rolo kid headcanons because I knew I'd never write a full fic for them. Apparently deciding I'm for sure not going to do something is the best way to get myself to do it.


End file.
